Memories and Rubberbands
by buildthenwelltalk
Summary: Before his move to New York, Kurt had decided to break up with Blaine. He didn't want the long distance relationship to get to them. Between the breakup, the bullying and his dads abuse...Blaine breaks. He starts sleeping around, and somewhere in the middle he tries heroin. It's now an addiction. Cut to five years later at a reunion, and Blaine wants to stay sober when he sees Kurt
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: This is my first blangsty idea, so please be kind…**

 **Blaine and Kurt broke things off the summer before Blaine's senior year, and thing got really hard for Blaine. His father abuse grows, bully's get bad and he starts sleazing around. Five years later the class of 2013 New Directions have a reunion. Blaine is a drug addict trying to be sober, but it's hard when he hates his life when he's not on drugs. Cue Sam and Puck helping him out to be decent for when he sees Kurt. Klaine is not endgame, but they end up becoming best friends again… you'll have to read who Blaine ends up with *Wink Wink*.**

Blaine sits knees tugged right close to his chest shaking hard like an old washing machine. Sweat drips from his forehead down to his cheeks, and it ends rolling off his trembling chin. He lost count of how many times he puked, but it was too many. His body felt like it was going to crumble atop itself. He dug his finger nails into the toilet beside so hard that his entire hand was paling. None of the above was the even the worse part. That worse part were the memories that flooded his mind when he was sober.

" _Kurt!" Blaine giggled. "I did not start it. Did you see me pick up the snow ball first?"_

" _You did start it!" Kurt huffed. "You forced us to go outside in the snow which made me mad which made me throw the snow ball."_

 _Snow trickled down from the electric blue sky landing down on Kurt's eyelashes. He blinked them off, and Blaine could help the way he practically pounced on Kurt to kiss him. Kurt was so gorgeous standing outside with red kissing the tip of his nose._

" _Blaine!" Kurt shrieked out when they landed on the snow. They both land a soft 'oomph' spilling from their lips. Kurt rolled them over holding Blaine's wrist above his head. "You're such a tough guy aren't you, Anderson."_

 _Giggles and the whistling of the wind was the only sound in the air. Blaine kicked snow up on Kurt's already soaked jacket covered back. Blaine flipped them, so that Kurt was on his back Blaine trapped between his bent knees._

" _And you, Kurt Hummel, are such a beautiful man."_

It has been five years. Five years since the last day Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson were claimed as soulmates. It hasn't been any easier. They say that time heals. Tell that to a cancer patient. Tell that to someone whose soul grows cold with every reminder of their past life. Someone who regrets more every day; who hates the next day even more than the last. Blaine pushes his hand into the sleeves of his oversized hoodies. With the hood flip up, Blaine lays on his side, his back on the bathtub's side, letting the hoodie swallow him whole. He hopes it will swallow all the memories too. It doesn't.

" _Kurt," Blaine stammers. "It's just a-I just fell down this morning."_

" _Bullshit Blaine. Its bullshit, and you and I both know it. Don't lie," Kurt says back softly. He takes a long sip from his coffee cup eyes leering over the rim. Blaine's coffee sits un-touched steam floating into the air._

" _Kurt, its fine—"_

" _No, it's not. It's abuse."_

" _It's only twice. It's fine."_

 _Kurt's sharp sighs sounds the bell of an argument starting. When he crosses his legs, Kurt rolls his eyes. He replies, "You talk a lot of courage Blaine, but you never act on it."_

" _What does this have to do about courage?"_

" _Everything."_

" _No, Kurt, this has to do about love. He's the only family I have. I love him," Blaine stresses leaning forward, and resting his forearms atop the table._

" _Blaine, I care you and love you, but we need to talk."_

Blaine clamps his eyes shut hard willing his thoughts away.

" _You mean the world to me, but I'm moving and we all know how long distance relationships end. I mean, look at Tina and Mike for example."_

 _He should have said something there. Blaine could have been with Kurt instead of the silence that looms over him. If only he said something. Anything._

" _This isn't an official break-up. If you come to New York, I would love to start this up again. I-I just… I'd rather we end this on a good note instead of us hating each other. I love you too much to hate you."_

 _Blaine should have fought. Anything._

" _I get it. If you don't want to talk anymore that's fine, but I would like to be friends. Please Blaine say something, so that I don't feel like a monster."_

 _Nothing. Dead air._

" _Fine, I get it. Be like that. I'm sorry that I was trying to save the friendship we have. The relationship we built up. I'm sorry for being the bigger person."_

 _Kurt got up leaving with a single tear trickling down his cheek. He left his halfway finished mocha sitting on the table forgotten. Blaine's full cup of steaming coffee gets forgotten too as he stumbled blindly for his car._

Blaine curled in on himself tears following the drops of sweat streaming down his face. A sound of a door squealing open and slamming sounds too far in the distance to be Blaine's apartment. He was wrong. Sam comes stumbling into Blaine's bathroom a grocery bag dangling from his arms Noah trailing after him. Once both of them are in there, Blaine sits up puking for the umpteenth time that day. Practiced sympathetic tuts come from both of their mouths.

"Come on, man, we got you some drugs," Puck said.

Sam rushed out, "But like medical drugs. Not drug drugs…"

"No," Blaine squeaks out

"No?" Puck says.

"No, I'm not going. I can't," Blaine barely murmurs trying to stand up. With the help of hands hoisting him, Blaine stands swaying like a willow leaning against the counter.

"Dude," Sam draws. "You're finally getting sober, and it's for this thing that you're not even going to?"

"I can't. I'm not staying sober. I just can't."

Puck shouts stepping around Sam, "No, you're staying sober, Blaine. You need to get a fucking life."

"I don't have a life outside of drugs, so fuck you," Blaine tries to shout back, but his voice wavers and cracks.

"You're twenty-two. You should have a life outside of drugs. Come on, man," Sam mumbles feeling crestfallen wondering what happened to his best friend.

"Well, I don't. I hate my life without it; the drugs. It's punishment. Not reward."

" _Why are you so upset?" Blaine's father asked him, as they sat at the dinner table eating left over spaghetti._

" _Kurt broke up with me," Blaine said with hesitation. His father breathe was laboured with alcohol, and bringing up Kurt wasn't the best idea. Blaine should've lied. He knew he should've lied._

" _Is that a reason for your grades to be dropping?" Blaine's father asked words slurred and aggressive. "You should be happy to not have that fag hanging around. Now you can find yourself a nice woman."_

 _Blaine looked down at his plate blinking back the teasing tear in the ducts of his eyes. He could feel the burn of his father's dilated dark brown eyes. So dark that they were almost black. The sneer was harsh and intimidating, and Blaine couldn't stand the way his lips were curled like on of a raging dog._

" _I'm gay, dad," Blaine whispers, "You know this."_

" _No, Blaine, this is a disease. I think we need to send you back to the counsellor," he growls before gulping down the entire beer that sat in front of him._

" _I'm fucking gay. Why can't you just accept that?"_

 _His father slams his plate onto the floor, so that it shatters in a billion tiny pieces. Spaghetti lies on the tiled floor murdered. Blaine tries to scramble up to his room, but hands slam him into the wall grabbing for his neck._

" _Stop this disease, now, Blaine," He breathes onto Blaine's neck. The smell of whiskey burns Blaine's nose. A thick hand is brought well behind his father's head, and onto his cheek._

Blaine's knees crack, as he sinks to the floor, again, coughing up bile until he's just dry heaving. His hands violently shake where they are gripping the edge of the snow colored toile. Throat ripping hacks and coughs pool up the entire bathroom. Sam kneels down beside Blaine rubbing his shoulder while Puck digs through the grocery bag.

"Here," Puck says handing two bottles over to Blaine, "I don't know how well these'll work, but they might ease your misery for a bit."

Sam chimes, "We also got you a rice crispy squares. I know you wanted one earlier. I may or may not have eaten one already."

"Just stop trying to help," Blaine grumbles, "I don't want help. I was perfectly fine before you guys came back. I am fine."

"Tell that to your last doctor report. Gonorrhea? Really Blaine?" Puck retorted leaning against the bathroom sink.

Opening one of the pill bottle with trembling hands, Blaine spills it all over his bathroom floor. He picks one up from the ground, and pops it in his mouth not using any water. Reached hands of Blaine's try to open the second bottle, but are stopped from Sam's still ones. Sam grabs one out, and hands it over to Blaine's quivering palm. Blaine swallows that one without any liquids too.

"I don't know how you do that, dude," Puck whistles.

Blaine smirks, "As a gay man… I get a lot of practice swallowing."

Blaine gets hauled up by Sam and dragged into the tiny living room. His apartment was small. One bed, one bath, a living room, a laundry room and a kitchen. That was it. With the income of a poor stripper and part time prostitute, you get a house that looks like it's one of a poor stripper and part time prostitute. You'd be surprised how many closeted gay men in Lima, Ohio look for an affair to satisfy the carvings that they can't get from their wives. Blaine was when he first started his business.

Plopping himself on the old chewed up love seat, Blaine see's Puck towing a big metal bucket covered in rust. Better safe than sorry. Not that there isn't vomit stains somewhere in the house. Sam and Puck sit in the navy blue arm chairs to the left of the loveseat. The armchairs definitely did not match the color scheme of the apartment. Blaine wasn't too sure if empty space, black, white and brown was really a color scheme though. The two chairs did look really out of place.

 _Music thumped the floor to a timed beat. Adrenaline made Blaine's heart thump very erratically. He loved the feeling of being on the dance floor because there was not judgement. It was people just being people. Blaine hasn't come home before the sunset in the past three days. His father doesn't care; no one really cares. He likes being at Scandals because people actually pay attention to him. Well, more so his body, but he isn't forgotten pushed into the shadows._

 _People want him. People actually want to be around him. Want him to have a good time. Want to have a good time with him. Blaine was wanted for the first time in a while, and he loved it._

 _That's why when somebody pushed him up against the bathroom walk whispering, "I want you on your knees." He obliged with ease._

 _The man was old, but he wasn't elderly. The tips of his hair were tinted grey. Wrinkles kissed his forehead. The man was dressed in a suit one similar to one of a lawyer or an accountant. He was still working, so he wasn't retirement age. Blaine never had to pay for a drink when we walked into the bar, but he always left stumbling needing a ride. He walked to the bar now not wanting to have to pick up his car every time._

 _The man he was with always kept his hand full with a beer bottle. Blaine hadn't known how many he had, but he knew it was a numerous amount. He could barely sit still on the bench without waving around like a flag. The man pushed him into the bathroom, and he locked it with an echoing click. That's when Blaine reputation began to bubble. He was easy. A whore._

"Santana and Britney are going to bring their baby. I didn't know that they had it already," Puck says looking up from the white light emitted from his phone.

"Yeah, dude," Sam answers, "I think Santana had her three weeks ago."

"Why isn't there anything on their social media accounts?"

"Because their new parents who probably aren't sleeping. How would they have time to do anything?"

"Touché."

The glee club of 2013\2012 reunion was in two days. Blaine knew he wouldn't be done with the withdrawal completely. If he was lucky, he'll stop puking. If he's lucky. Today, everyone sent in the guests that they were bringing—the invitation that Mr. Shue sent out clarified that they were allowed to bring any family or 'special' guests. Now, everyone in the 'New Directions' group chat were saying who they were bringing. Kurt was bringing his boyfriend. Elliot something. Blaine didn't care to read the rest of the name… or maybe he was too high to remember. He can't remember. His guess would be the latter.

"I'm not going," Blaine murmured, "Tell them I'm not coming."

Blaine doesn't own a phone that isn't hung up on the wall. He sold his cellphone for drugs the way he sold himself. There still wasn't any regret dragging him down, and he hadn't a clue if that was a good thing or not.

Puck chimes, "Too late. Already told the chat that you were coming. Most of them seem excited."

"They won't be when they see me," Blaine grumbles curling into to a tight little ball on the couch.

"I was," Sam says, "I mean, you were drugged up, and being dragged by on old sweaty dude. But I was still excited."

 _Sam had honestly thought he went mentally insane. He was seeing things. He had to have been because there was no way that right there in front of his eyes wearing shredded black skinny jeans and a white mesh long sleeved shirt was Blaine Anderson. Well, at least not the Blaine Anderson from two years ago. No one had heard from his nonetheless actually seen him. Who would have thought he would end up in Lima? Everyone thought he had run off to Las Vegas or some shit. Black shaded the entirety of his under eye, and his cheek bones were sunk in like a dune. Two years ago his cheeks were pudgy, healthier, while his eyes were bright vibrant. There were always glittering with something even if he was going through some hard things. Now, his eyes were hazy and dim._

" _Blaine?" Sam asked._

 _Blaine swerved and stumbled a step towards the voice that had called his name. A man had his arm circled around Blaine's keeping him upright, and tugging him along to a motel with the name of 'Lucky days Motel'. The bright lights of the sign hanging above the aged motel smiled blinding bright in a neon yellow. Blinking away some fogginess in front of him, Blaine grinned when he saw who it was._

" _Sam!" He squealed out with delight dripping over his words, "What is up my man?"_

 _Sam had never heard his words more slurred in his life._

" _What happened to you, dude," Sam asked eyebrows creasing together so they become one, "You look like complete shit."_

 _It was true. Blaine was thinner than anybody thought he could be, and he was shaking looking pale like a ghost. He looked sick. Really, really sick._

" _Pffft!" Blaine spat out, "I feel-I feel, fucking fine, and this guy right here said he has a big surprise for me. So if you'll excuse me..."_

 _Sam looked at the guy Blaine was with, and his face melted into a frown. The man was old. Older than Blaine by at least twenty years. Maybe even thirty. Though Sam was worried, he had to take a step back, for the older man was sending him glares from drunk eyes. Sam doesn't like drunk eyes. Drunk eyes lead to drunken actions._

" _Blaine," Sam says, "Give me your phone."_

" _He doesn't have one," The man's raspy voice snapped. His voice was one of a smokers._

" _How can I reach you?" Sam asked._

 _Blaine, with a drowsy voice, replied, "I don't know."_

" _I want to see you again. Where do you work? Can I go there?"_

" _Just-just," Blaine fumbled a bit with his words, "Can you stop asking so many fucking questions. I can't keep up."_

" _Blaine," Sam pleads, "Just give something to contact you with. Please?"_

" _If I give you my address will you shut up?"_

 _For once in his life, Sam was so, so glad he craved cheap cool ranch Dorito's from the sketchy gas station down town. Sam shivered, as the night's wind whipped and whistled around his sweater clad body. He felt a toothy grin spread across his face when he looked down at the piece of paper in his hand. 27, 345 Heritage Square North._

Sam has been to that address nearly every day since he got that slip of paper. He had even been there when Blaine wasn't. Noah had been there too more often than not now because he had moved back to Lima with Quinn, and gained contact with Blaine through Sam. Ever since the influence from his former friends, Blaine has filter from being high and sober more than he used too. Three years ago Blaine was only ever high with a needle stuck in his arm, or a drink in his hand.

They all sat around Blaine's crap tiny television with a thick black part sticking from the back of it. They made it half through the 'Avengers' before Noah's phone shrieked at him.

He stood up, and cracks filled the room from his stiff bones being stretched. He said, "Quinn wants me home for supper. Need a ride Sam or are you staying?"

"Staying. Thanks for the offer, man," Sam replied.

"Who ever thought there would be a day that someone would actually be thanking the Puckzilla."

"Not me," Blaine grumbled, "Definitely not after you just fucking waltzed in my life claiming I needed fixing."

"You'll thank me one day, Anderson," Puck said, as he slipped out the door, "One day.

The door slammed shut with a loud echoing bang. A faint buzz from the television and characters talking were the only sound that surrounded the room. Blaine huffed curling in on himself even more wishing that he could just disappear into it.

"You're so hateful when you're sober," Sam said with hesitation.

Blaine sighed, "Because I hate my reality. To be frank, though, I'm worst during withdrawal."

"That's fair, I guess."

 _There were these two shadows that always loomed over Blaine in the hallways. Classrooms. Gym. Bathroom. They always trailed him whenever he was at McKinley High in his senior year. The shadows names were Don and Micky. They were greasy characters. Clipped hair in the front of their faces that pooled into long hair at the back. The hair always looked like it had been dipped into a deep fryer. Micky had red hair, and freckled that covered the entire terrain of his rectangle face. Don had a big bushy afro that was only a tad bit darker than his cocoa colored skin. Don and Micky; the power twins of the school. Don and Micky; hockey all-stars and respected puck heads. Don and Micky; Blaine's newest tormentors._

 _The start of the school year had been fine. A wall of red ice would slap Blaine in the face a few times._

" _Here you go, faggot," They would spit._

 _No one would really notice because, hey, he was the only gay kid in the school, so of course he was going to get bullied. No one really thought he would be targeted. They hadn't noticed._

 _It had been a little after the beginning of October when things really turned for the worst. Blaine had felt like there were these demons that were attached to his back taunting little thing that was wrong with him._

" _What's with the long face? Does your daddy not love you anymore? I'm pretty sure he stopped the day you were born."_

" _You're a little fucking faggot whose big dreams will turn into dreams of being able to eat food while you look for another saggy dick to suck."_

It's funny how true that turned out to be.

 _The workout room in the school was completely silent except for the little thumps that came from punches being thrown into the red punching bag. While Blaine huffed out little shaky breathes, he felt shadows looming over him. They were leering. Blaine scrambled to un-wrap the bandages from his hands, and stuff everything into his bloated baby boy blue duffle bag. A voice stopped him._

 _It growled, "Hey there little fairy. Who knew you had other talents than dancing like a girl and getting on your knees. Something that was actually kind or manly."_

" _I have a lot of talents, frankly," Blaine replied. That was the wrong idea._

 _Hands shoved him into one of the lockers beside the punching bag. Blaine gasped, as his back slammed into the locker. The air left his lungs. He tried to wiggle out while yelling out into the silent room. The hands tighten, and one flew over top of his mouth._

" _Hey," Micky, the fiery haired one, "Shut up? Okay? No one's going to come get you."_

 _Don held up a black sharpie, and un-capped it with a loud snap. He held it up the tip pointed towards Blaine's face. The marker had started dancing on his face. Blaine shut his closed so tight that wrinkles appeared all over his forehead._

 _The marker stopped, and all the hand left his body. After the two shadow floated away their cackled being ghosted, Blaine slid down the floor heart hammering hard into his chest. Tears gathered in the ducts, but he sniffed them up standing up. He walked over to the mirror to see words scribbled all over his face. His jaw dropped to the floor. 'Faggot', 'fairy', 'butt boy', 'queer' and 'girl' were written in thick black markers all over the entirety of his face. Blaine fumbled to get into his car, and sped down the road breaking all the speed limits. When he reached his bathroom, he scrubbed his face raw. There was nothing but pink hot skin._

"Don't you have to go home at some point," Blaine asked voice weary. He popped his head out of the, now, slightly full bucket from where it had been the last few minutes. The movie was over; a black screen took its place.

"Na," Sam said. The chair squealed when he stood up off the arm chair. He walked to stand behind the couch, and started to dig his fingers into the stiff shoulder of his friend. "I'm going to stay the night."

"Why would you want to do that? I'm being such a little bitch."

"Well, I worry about you, and today was really bad and I want to make sure you don't take anymore drugs because I know how much you want to be sober for this."

Blaine's lips curled up in a scowl, as he grumbled, "I can't get off the fucking couch, and you think I'd be able to get out of the apartment to my dealer."

"Hey!" Sam said flicking his hands up, "You might have some laying around."

"Oh, bullshit, I know you and Puck rummaged around. I already tried looking for something."

Sam sighed walking into the messy dish littered kitchen. He grabbed a Rice Krispy Square, and headed back into the living area. The square was tossed into Blaine's hands. He ate it sheepishly with little bits like a kid forced to eat their food. It crinkled every time Blaine put it towards his mouth. After he finished it, Blaine stuck his head into the bucket and puked. Throat ripping dry heaves had once again pooled up the entire apartment. Sam sighed.

"Let's get you into bed," He said.

"No, no, get me something. Please? I can't stand this," Blaine pleaded.

"Blaine," Sam tried to ease, "The thing is just in a few days. Come on, man, you got this."

Blaine closed his eye closing out the yellow lights of the living room. If he could, he would go back, and not take the heroin. Even though he wished he could back, he can't seem to live without it. Sweat trickled down his forehead, and he ripped off the hoodie that was enclosing him. Now shirtless in front of Sam, Blaine scratched at his arms needing to feel something. He traced the track marks littered all of his forearm with his jagged nails.

"Did you want to take a bath?" Sam asked.

"Fuck no," Blaine breathed, "last time we tried that I almost drowned."

"I'm sorry, dude. I just didn't realize that you needed to be babysat while you were bathing."

"I don't," Blaine growled, "I just need you to leave me alone."

Sam walked around the couch hoisting Blaine's arm around his shoulder. Dragging Blaine like a rag doll towards his bedroom, Sam sighed out frustration. He knew that Blaine was moody from withdrawal, and that he will apologize once he's completely sober. He knew that. He did. Sam couldn't help, though, the way his fist would clench. All he wants to do is help out his best friend, but it's hard when said best friend doesn't want you around. Well, around when you're preventing him from taking drugs.

" _You know, your face is too pretty for it to be frowning all the time. What's wrong, sexy?" A deep voice dripping in a thick southern accent behind Blaine whispers into his ear. Hot breath was blown onto on the left side of his face._

" _Wouldn't you like to know," Blaine retorts spinning around on the bar stool his face flushed from the heat of the bar._

" _Well, why don't you come with me, and I can show that frown something to smile about," The man had a short stubby face with a full beard. He was wearing tight jeans, and a little pink tied was choking his neck._

" _Sure, I'd love to," Blaine smiled expecting the man had wanted sex. He was right, of course, but the man starting tying a rubber band around Blaine's bicep. The man wasn't lying when he said the Blaine's frown would melt into a smile. Once the needle was stabbed into Blaine's skin, he closed his eyes and smiled in delight._

" _There you go, sweet pea," The softy exclaimed._

 _Blaine giggled. He said, "You've got a nice accent."_

"Fuck," Blaine sighed, "I'm so, so cold."

Sam had plopped Blaine onto the thin and chewed up blanket on his bed. It was grey just like thick smoke puffing from a fire. "Well, you should have kept your sweater and pants on. I may be a little dumb, but a least I don't strip off my clothes when I'm cold."

"It's what I do for a living, Sam. I'm probably used to it."

"What?" Sam asked flabbergasted.

"I'm a fucking stripper in case you forgot."

"Oh, right."

Digging through Blaine drawers as if it were dirt, Sam pulls out some sweatpants and a shirt. He threw them at the body on the bed curled up in a fetal position. Blaine slipped into clothes, as Sam went out into the hallway to grab an extra blanket from the tiny closet just outside of the bedroom. When Sam came back in, Blaine was cocooned into the grey blanket.

Later in the night Sam had been woken up to the sound of panicked mumbles. He shifted on the made up bed on the couch. There was sound a something crashing too. Sam flung himself into Blaine's room, and his eyes pumped wider than moon. He hated this. The paranoia. Blaine's eyes were erratically flying around in the sockets as if they were following a fly. He stumbled while moving beside his bed.

"Blaine?" Sam said softy.

Blaine looked up panicked. He replied, "You're not with them are you? I need to get away. I need to leave now."

A stumbling body fell into Sam's arms, as he said, "No, Blaine, dude, you need to stay here. Okay?"

"They're going to come get me. Don't you hear them? The sirens?"

"No, Blaine."

"Save me," Blaine rushed; his words were flustered, "they're going to take me away."

"No one's coming. You're fine, okay? You're perfectly fine."

Hands gripping Sam's shirt tighten. Wide hazel eyes stared up at him. They looked so young. Younger than Blaine had looked since the senior year of high school. The eyes were one of a child discovering a tragedy for the first time. Wide. Worried. Aloof. Gone somewhere no one really knows where. Sam felt the air leave his throat. It was gone. He couldn't breathe. Those eyes looked so innocent one a body that was trembling from years of hardship.

"Go back to bed. Okay?"

Sam dug his feet into the flat matted caret watching the innocent eyes close when they fall into the bed.

"Make sure they don't come. Okay Sammy?" A little voice whispered.

"Of course."

With the eyes closed, everything looked not so young anymore. Body parts trembled and were marked. Bruises, scratches and scars. They were everywhere. Sam walked away blinking. He couldn't figure out why his eye started blurring. Tear leaked from the ducts of eyes, and no amount of blinking stopped them. Sam didn't know what to do. He fell asleep on his couch ignoring the ache in his chest, and not acknowledging the way his throat collapsed on itself.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt dodged people in the airport as if they were diseased. He looked at his watch for the millionth and, and snatched the hand of the man who had been trailing after him.

"Come on," Kurt growled. "If we don't hurry up were going to be late."

"Well, I'm sorry," the man said, "I wasn't the one who wanted to go on the airplane the day of the reunion."

Kurt stopped and turned around sharply, so that the other man had stumbled into him. He sneered, "Elliot. Now is not the time to be snarky."

"I'm sorry, babe. Now let's get going because Finn's not going to want to be parked out there forever."

When they had reached the outside of the airport with heaving chests, they saw Finn waving his hand with so much force his head vibrated. Slipping into the car Kurt finally took a deep breath of calm. Finn greeted them, and they nodded in return. Kurt pushed his head into the headrest of the passenger seat closing his eyes shut. The radio was on to a near silence.

"So, ugh, Elliot," Finn started, "You excited to meet all of Kurt's high school friends."

He exclaimed, "Oh yeah! From all the stories Kurt has told me it'll be interesting I'm sure."

Finn laughed. Kurt sighed so quiet that he could barely tell if it was legible. He didn't want to see Santana since the whole argument with Rachel exploded, nor had he wanted to see Rachel because she completely ghosted him. Puck, Sam, Mike, Quinn, and Tina had never followed through with plans that he had tried to set up. At least Artie and him had relations because of the fact that they were living in the same City. Mercedes was one of the few he wouldn't mind seeing, but there was only one person he had really wanted to see. That he ached to see with his entire existence. Blaine. Blaine Anderson. They hadn't spoken a single word, shot a single text, or seen an inch of each other since their break up. Was Kurt planning on getting back together with Blaine? No, of course not he loved Elliot. He was just missing the final chapter of a story to his life. A final chapter that was vastly important.

He wondered what Blaine was going to be like? The same? Probably not. People change; it's always inevitable. Maybe he'll even have a boyfriend that makes him smile even more than Kurt had. The conversation between Elliot and Finn had become white noise to Kurt, as he sorted through ideas on how much Blaine had changed. Kurt wished that they were still friends. He wishes that he hadn't let a little distance completely tear their relationship to billions of shreds. When they were only a few minutes to McKinley High, Kurt felt bubbling and churning in his stomach. What if Blaine didn't want to see him? What if Blaine wasn't even there? What if Blaine was married? Kurt shook his head willing the silly thoughts away. Not matter what happened Kurt had decided he was going to have a good time. Well, he's at least going to try really hard for a decent time.

Finn had pulled up into the McKinley parking lot, and the car shot forward when he parked. All three of them dashed to get into the choir on time. Everyone was there. Everyone except for Blaine and Sam, but they still had a minute before they were going to be late. Quin was standing in the corner with Puck dripping in a white Sunday dress, and her hair was so, so blonde pulled into a tight bun. She looked like an old lady ready for a day at church. Funny, Kurt thought, does she still have the big tattoo? Artie had been rolling his way up to Tina when Kurt walked in. He just shook his head in the slightest. When was Artie going to get over Tina? Wasn't seven years enough?

"Oh my god!" Someone squealed, "Is that the amazing Kurt Hummel?"

Kurt whipped around to see Sam walk in with a shadow lingering behind him. The shadow was oh so familiar to Kurt.

"The one and only."

"And who is this?" Sam asked.

"Oh!" Kurt kind of gasped at his forgotten boyfriend. "This is Elliot. My boyfriend."

"Oh, sweet," Kurt didn't miss the way Sam's voice fell into one of relief.

Mercedes shrieked from the back corner, "Kurt!"

He ran up to her, and their bodies collided hard. The two had squawked at each other like parrots. They giggled. They screeched. Kurt had introduced her to Elliot, and Mercedes starting telling old stories of Kurt's sophomore year. That included the story of dressing up like lady gaga. Kurt blushed and Elliot chortled, as Kurt smacked Mercedes shoulder.

Eventually Kurt stopped talking, and his jaw had dropped to the floor. There was a shadow in the room, but not one casted by a person. One of a person. This was a dark shadow of the former Blaine that Kurt had once knew. He stood behind Sam almost cowering from all the noise like timid dog. Black was spilt over the entirety of the skin underneath his eye. It was a dark night. Mercedes had stopped talking at some point to look over to where Kurt was staring. She put a hand over mouth.

"Is that really him?" She whispered.

"Who," Elliot had asked.

"Blaine," Kurt gasped, "He was my high school sweetheart."

"Sweetheart my ass," Elliot laughed, "He looks like he's a drug dealer or something."

Blaine, dressed in jeans that had more holes than fabric and a grey sweatshirt, had looked over his eyes burning through Kurt's. Kurt hadn't expected him to look that bad. He had actually expected him to look well. He swallowed a gasp. Where was the bowtie? Where was the gelled curls? Where were the cute sweaters that Kurt had grown accustom to?

Kurt smacked Elliot's shoulder, and whisper, "Don't talk like that. This is the first time most of us have seen him since his senior year. He must've gone through some hard times."

Mercedes turned to him saying, "He does look like complete shit though. Elliot's got a point here."

"Yeah, well, we don't know what he's gone through, so leave it."

Kurt practically glided across the room of the choir room mingling with everyone slowing. He introduced Elliot to everyone, and cooed at Santana's and Britany's baby.

"Out of everyone here…who would have thought you guys were going to be parents first?" Kurt had said to Santana.

Santana merely shrugged, and replied, "I had always thought it was going to be you and Blaine to have kids first. If I'm being honest here."

The heart clenched in his chest a little had dropped into his stomach, and Elliot had look down at his feet almost sheepishly. Elliot was never sheepish. He was always the loud and entertaining man with no regrets nor remorse. Kurt looked up to see Blaine following Sam around like he was his shadow. Blaine seemed to be just stuck behind him. Every once in a while Kurt had heard Blaine start a conversation with Noah, but that was when Quinn wasn't around him. It seemed as though she had resented Blaine a little bit considering all the daggers she glared at him.

Good to know she hasn't lost any of her character, Kurt had thought.

"Kurt!" William Shuster had called out to him at some point, "How are you? It's so good to see you!"

"I'm good. Thank you for asking. How are you?"

"I'm great. It's so good to have the whole gang here again."

Idle small talk was fired back and forth between Will and Kurt, and the plethora of people behind was like white noise. They really didn't notice anyone or anything. That's why Kurt hadn't noticed a little shadow moving its way over to him. The conversation died. Will had moved on to go talk to Rachel or someone else. Kurt had turned around to be meet face to face with Blaine Anderson. His heart hammered hard into his chest while he sucked in a breath.

"Hey," Blaine had whispered.

No words spilt out of Kurt's mouth. His jaw just hung loosely open for a few seconds before pulling Blaine into a long deep hug. Kurt buried his nose into the crazy tangled curls atop Blaine's hair, as Blaine's hot breathe poured all over his neck. Kurt got shivers. They eventually pulled apart. Blaine eyebrows were shot to hell high up in his forehead.

"While that was nice…" he had said, "what was that for?"

Kurt huffed and laugh that ended shortly saying, "I guess I forgot how much I missed my old best friend."

"Best friend?" Blaine had asked.

Kurt confirmed, "Best friend."

A throat being cleared sounded from behind Kurt who jump a few feet in the air at the sound. Elliot stood behind him leering at Blaine who quivered like a small prey. Shit, Kurt had breathed so silently no one heard it.

"Blaine, this is my boyfriend Elliot," Kurt said hand gesturing to Elliot, "Elliot this is Blaine my… my friend."

Elliot had nodded shortly opening his hand up for Blaine to shake. Blaine slowly slipped his hand out of the sleeve of his sweatshirt. His hand trembled as if lifting it took a tremendous amount of effort. They shook hands stoic looks stuck on their faces. Standing in the center of the room, William Shuster had called everyone to sit down, and everyone complied. He had announced, for old time sakes, that they all should perform songs. Half the room had stood up with smiles taking up most of their faces. The other half was, well, not so enthusiastic. Especially Blaine who just sunk into his seat looking as if he wanted it to just swallow him. Rachel had volunteered to go first singing the solo on the new off Broadway musical she was in. A revival of Rent which she was playing Maureen Johnson.

Just like the good old times. Kurt had closed his eyes to hide him rolling them.

Midway through Rachel squawking her song, Kurt had noticed any empty chair in back corner. An empty that had been occupied by Blaine just a few mere seconds earlier. It was as if he disappeared in thin air. He slipped away without anyone noticing. Kurt's face crinkled with concern. When was Blaine so secretive? How did Blaine become this mere shadow of a person that no one noticed? The song had ended, and everyone clapped politely, shortly. It was the perfect opportunity for Kurt to slink away, so he did. Little had he known that Elliot was trailing after him.

There was a breeze in the hallway that tickled the hair atop his head.

"Kurt, why did you leave?" Elliot had asked from behind him.

"God," Kurt sighed turning around sharply, "How many times are you going to sneak up on me like that?"

"Sorry," He huffed, "Why did you leave?"

"I saw that Blaine left, and I thought that I—"

"I thought you were over Blaine. You specifically told me that you were over Blaine."

 _Elliot had these little quirks, things really, that he did, and every time it would remind Kurt of Blaine. Kurt knew he shouldn't be thinking of Elliot as Blaine or doing any comparison. It's hard though when Elliot spends three hours in a mall browsing at the millions of bowties, and trying every single one of them on. After Elliot slips one in his collar to show Kurt, Kurt can't wondering if Blaine would look good in it too. In a way, Blaine and Elliot were very similar. With each bowtie that Elliot puts one, Kurt feels a tightness in his throat. He doesn't really know why or what for, but it always happens._

 _He was over Blaine, really. It had been three year since the break-up, and Kurt had tried to phone him, and it always went straight to voicemail now. He must have gotten a new phone. That's what Kurt goes with anyway because it would hurt too much knowing that Blaine had blocked him._

 _Elliot loved Rent with all of his heart. Very much like Blaine had. It was both of their favorite musical. Incessantly insisting that they watch Rent at least two times a month, Elliot always seemed so content with his arm around Kurt mouthing off the lyrics to 'La Vie Boheme'. Blaine used to always get up, and prance around mirroring the dances on the screen. Kurt missed that. He missed it so much. A cringe would suck Kurt's face in, as he compared Elliot to Blaine once again. He just let the thick arm laying heavily across his shoulders tug him into Elliot's warm body. It helped him forget Blaine, or at least forget to compare Elliot to Blaine for a bit until he heard Elliot singing 'What You Own'. Blaine would have never sang it off key, and had the lyrics so quiet it was barely legible to anyone close to his lips. Blaine would have belted at the top of his lungs tearing up his throat in the process. Kurt had sighed snuggling into the man he loved now._

 _He was over Blaine, really. Kurt didn't love him anymore, but, god, did he ever miss him. Sometimes Kurt wanted Blaine in New York sitting in the couch with him and Elliot. Not just him and Elliot together all the time. Kurt missed his best friend, and it was fair._

"Yes, I know that, and I am! I swear. It's just that no one else seemed to know that he was gone, and he looked really sad today, and I feel bad. Okay?"

"If you were over him, you wouldn't be following him around like a lost puppy, Kurt. Also, your hug earlier seemed to be a little too intimate to be something that 'just friends' share," Elliot growled.

"Elliot for god sakes calm down. Jealously does not look good on you. I love you and only you. I just miss Blaine, okay," Kurt snapped back.

"Can you tell me why you miss him if you're over him?"

"Before we actually dated, Blaine and I were good friends. Great friends, actually. I just miss him so much. I may have some feelings still inside me, but that doesn't mean that I love him. He was my first ever boyfriend. There's always going to be feelings. Okay? But I love you. I love you so much."

"Okay, fine," Elliot say quickly wrapping up Kurt into his thick arms, "I love you too. Now let's go find your friend."

They wandered idle in the school for a few minutes hands intertwined. Just like how they felt with each other. Intertwined. When they had brushed past the washroom, thunderous footsteps and a clipped breathe started coming behind them. It was Sam running as if the floor was burning him. Kurt felt his heart jumpstart.

"Why are you running so fast?" Kurt had asked.

Sam replied, "Why are you guys wondering out here?"

"Well," Elliot had said, "Kurt saw that Blaine was gone, so we tried looking for him"

Sam had cussed taking a step away from them. He slipped his hands deep into his hair, easy like it was water.

"I'm just going to check the bathroom. Can you guys wait out here?"

They both had nodded their heads dumbly, as Sam sprinted into the bathroom door so fast that he had to grab the corner to slow down a bit. There was muffled skittering footsteps. A holler boomed off the wall of the bathroom and into the hallway. Kurt and Elliot had given a glance to each other before rushing into the bathroom. In there they saw Blaine backed up into a sink with Sam glowering over him with a face a pure anger. Kurt's jaw had dropped all the way to the floor, and his hand squeezed Elliot's as if he were trying to choke it. A rubber band was obstructing Blaine's bicep. His other hand was gripping a needle shaking more than earthquake ridden ground. Blaine had looked up at the noise at the door of the bathroom. His eye were blank, cold.

When he saw who it was, he dropped the needle. It hit the floor with a little clang un-silencing the dead air in the room.

"K-Kurt?" Blaine stuttered his eyes blown wider than the over pumped soccer ball.

"Come on," Sam said. He snatched Blaine's hand, and dragged him out of the bathroom like he was a rag doll. They brushed past Kurt and Elliot not even sparing a glance of the head nonetheless their eyes. Kurt was hot on their heels, though, nearly stepping on their shoes, as he follows them.

"Was that heroin?"

No answer.

"Sam, Blaine? Answer me. Was that heroin?"

Still no answer. Just the sound of shuffling feet.

"Was that heroin!" Kurt screamed.

Sam had stopped abruptly in the middle of the hallway making Blaine stumble into him lightly.

He said, "Yes it was. Now can you leave us alone? Please?"

Kurt felt his heart stutter and almost stop. What happened to his Blaine? What happened to the Blaine everyone knew five years ago? The one who's only thought on drugs was how abysmal they were.

 _Kurt had sprinted to his car shiny enough that it was reflecting a beam of the sun's white light. Sprinting as if the coffee shop he was just in had zapped him with a wave of high voltage, Kurt rubbed furiously at the tear falling down his cheeks. When he went into his vehicle, Kurt slammed the door hard enough that the whole car had shivered. 'What have I done?' Kurt had thought. 'I just ended things with Blaine. I hadn't even let him talk.'_

 _Kurt sped to his house with waterfalls falling out of his eyes. There was a strong urge to go back, and beg Blaine to forget about what Kurt had just said. He kept his eyes forward, stoic, on the road. His hands choked the wheel. They gripped the leather tighter than a vice. Kurt was off to New York in two weeks. He couldn't wait to see Rachel there. Kurt had just wished Blaine would be there too. Blaine may never be there because of Kurt. Kurt found himself thinking again, 'what have I done?'_

 _Eventually his house came into the front window of his car. Kurt scrambled inside forgetting his bag and his coat. His dad open the door with eyebrows shot up, and eyes wider than the moon. Kurt had never forgot his keys. Burt's mouth had dropped right down all the way to the coffee stained carpet, as he took in his son's appearance. He had never seen his son's eyes so bloodshot. So red. It happened in an instant, but Kurt had fallen forward burying his cold sniffling noise into his father's shoulder. Burt barley stopped himself from falling backwards from the sheer force of a depressed teenager. Words of comfort flew from Burt's mouth straight into Kurt's hair which had only made Kurt hiccup harder. He couldn't help but to think that Blaine didn't have this. There was no shoulder to cry on or into. Blaine had never had this until Kurt came along. Now Kurt was gone. There was no one. Kurt nearly screamed with the entirety of his lungs. 'What have I done?' he thought one last time before Burt dragged him to bed._

Kurt had stared blankly at the hallway that was just occupied by the sound of thumping feet. Sam and Blaine had gone somewhere—Kurt didn't know. He blinked a few times before a slight tug on his elbow broke him out of his trance. Kurt looked up to see Elliot's lips pressed in his mouth creating a straight line. How many bad memories was this damn High School going to create? Kurt shook his head letting Elliot drag his limp arm back to the choir room. How many nightmares will this damn school create until it's satisfied with itself? How many lives must be ruined?

 _Nothing. That's all that there ever was. Nothing. No answers to his texts. No call backs. Nothing. Kurt didn't know how long he was supposed to stare at the contacts that read 'Blaine Anderson' with a cute little bowtie as the icon. It felt like an eternity for Kurt. Maybe it was. Kurt wouldn't know._

 _It had been a month since Kurt had moved to New York, and Blaine had started school a few weeks ago. It was now a new routine for Kurt every Friday night to brew himself a cup of green tea letting the hot cup burn his hands a little, as he walked to the oversized lazy boy sitting in the corner of Rachel and his living room. He would plop himself in the middle of it, and curl his knees so they were kissing his chin. The chair was so big it could easily gobbled up Kurt in one bite. A phone that was sleeping on the glass coffee table beside the chair would be stared at for hours. Sometimes it would be fumbled around with. A few texts might be clacked out and sent, or the sound of a phone singing a ringtone for a call might sound. For the most part, though, it was just stared at by the figure in the chair with the contacts for Blaine Anderson pulled up. It would last until the tea ran out, and Rachel shook Kurt's shoulders to get him to sleep. That was the routine for an umpteenth months. Eventually Kurt was dragged like a sack down to a local bar where Elliot Gilbert was preforming. Now, Friday's were date nights, and Kurt usually forgets how he used to spend his Friday nights. Usually._

Kurt knew he fucked up, and he knew he had to help Blaine. He knew he had to be the one to help Blaine because Kurt was pretty sure that he was the one who broke him in the first place.

Everyone in the choir room who wanted to give a performance had, and Will eventually brought out snacks for everyone to nibble on while they mingled. There was a pause in the indolent chatter when Kurt and Elliot had strutted into the room. Elliot's face was quite apathetic while Kurt's was sorrow sadden by something.

"Hey!" Mercedes said, "Your back!"

"Yay," Kurt had said words dripping in sarcasm, as he dropped himself into a chair in the front row.

"Where's Sam and Blaine?" Santana had asked in the middle of the jungle of people.

Quinn had huffed saying, "Leave it up to Blaine to fuck this up."

What?

"What do you mean?" Santana had asked.

"Well, for people who don't know Blaine is—"

Noah had interrupted her grasping for her hand in desperation, "Quinn don't."

"—Blaine is a junkie. Addicted to heroin."

"Why would you say that, Quinn?" Kurt had asked.

" _Where the fuck were you?" Quinn snapped as soon as she heard keys being jingled outside the door to her and Noah's apartment._

" _Whoa, babe, chill out," Noah said closing the main door behind him._

" _No, where the fuck were you?" she had snapped once again, "You're either cheating on me or you're hanging out with that hopeless junkie once again."_

" _Don't talk about Blaine like that. He was your friend too, so fuck off."_

" _No, I was friends with Blaine Anderson for, like, two months. I'm not, and will never be, friends with this fucked up man whore who is set up to fail in his life. Don't act like they're the same people because they're not."_

" _They are the same people. You're just too ignorant to notice."_

" _Did you just call me ignorant?" Quinn had nearly screamed._

 _"Yeah, because you are," Noah grumbled brushing past Quinn carefully avoiding her jutted out hip and shoulder. She trailed after him stomping her feet more than what was necessary. After a hard quick huff, Quinn yanked Noah's shoulder._

" _Where are you going?" she asked._

" _To go shower," He said._

" _We're having a discussion here."_

" _You're picking a fight here, actually."_

" _You spend more time with the stripper than you do with me, and I am feeling upset and so, so very angry. We need to discuss a few thing," She said standing in front of him blocking off the rest of the hallway that lead into the bathroom._

" _Okay," Noah had replied with composure, "Can we discuss the fact that I don't appreciate you calling Blaine names."_

" _And I don't appreciate how he is ruining our relationship! God! All we ever talk about is Blaine when you're not actually with him!"_

She shrugged only lifting one shoulder making it lazy. The room is engulfed into a choking silence. Heads turn towards each with shell shocked faces. Noah had pulled Quinn closer to him; they started arguing in harsh hushed words. Kurt covered his face into his hands, and dug his elbows into his knees. A thick arm wrapped around his shoulder before he looked up to see Elliot sitting beside him. Eventually everyone started to mingle again, but there were no snacks being eaten. They all talked trying to ignore the unsettling feeling bubbling up in their stomachs like a potion.

Elliot, Kurt and Finn had shuffled back to their car the sky already melted into a deep black ocean. There were few stars out tonight. The fresh air smelt nice. Kurt breathed it in filling up his entire chest trying to calm down the pit stuck in his stomach.

"Blaine always seemed so happy. It just seems weird," Finn had said, as he un-locked the car with a little click.

"Can we not talk about it, Please?" Kurt had asked.

"Sure, yeah, whatever."

"I-I'm sorry, Sam," Blaine stuttered, as he was dragged to Sam's apartment. When they arrived, Blaine rubbed at the red circle strangling his wrist that was just occupied by Sam's hand. "It's just that… I kept thinking of my life back then compared to now, and I got really depressed. I'm sorry."

 _Kurt was laying on the glossed piano his stomach kissing the top of the instrument. He watched Blaine with soft eyes, and a little smile curving his lips up. A Katy Perry song was being pumped lightly through the speakers in the choir room, as Blaine did little turns all over the room. He eventually stopped in front of Kurt tickling the piano with a finger lighter than a feather._

" _See?" Blaine had said, "We aren't going to get caught for skipping last period. It's the beginning of the year. No one really cares."_

 _Kurt had nodded making grabby hands just as a toddler wanting their mother would. Blaine launched himself atop the piano lying beside Kurt, but his side was pressed up against the piano. He started trailing his finger down Kurt's back, lightly, as he had done earlier to the piano. Kurt had grumbled that it tickled. The smile taking up his entire face let it known to Blaine that he didn't want him to stop. Blaine propped his head with his hand. Watching Kurt's face, as he started to scratch Kurt's back underneath the shirt. It was complete ecstasy._

" _Oh my god," Kurt groaned, "That feels so good."_

" _I love you," Blaine had sighed._

" _I love you too."_

"Blaine… sometimes you really make me—make me, ugh," Sam had started saying pacing a hole in the living room of his apartment.

"Irritated, angry, infuriated, wretched, sad?" Blaine had said from the ball he had curled himself in on the plush white fluffy couch. Sam looked at him one eyebrow curled upwards.

"Wretched?"

"Embarrassed."

"Then you make me feel all of the above of what you said. Blaine, your life now isn't as bad as you think it is. Stop dwelling on what's fucked up, and maybe start thinking of some of the memories that you have made with Puck and I. You always make it sound like we're making your life completely miserable, Blaine, but were not. Just open your eyes."

Sam marched into the kitchen, and Blaine just closed his eyes wishing that the needle had actually gone into his skin earlier. Why couldn't heroin be easy to use like a joint? Or cocaine even? There was some clattering, and eventually the hiss of a tea kettle. Mint started to musk up the apartment. Blaine loved that smell it was his favorite tea.

 _What had they gone into Walmart for again?_

" _Dudes, I found some sick one!" Puck exclaimed from the isle beside the one Blaine and Sam were in._

 _Oh, yeah. Water guns. Blaine dropped the plastic blue sword from his hand, and Sam had poked him in the back with the green one that was in his hand._

" _My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die!" Sam said grinning._

 _They both giggled like little school girls. Puck came around the corner with three different water guns spilling over his arms. He boasted about them: how much water they held, how far they shot and how many time you could shot them in a row. Blaine just nodded along with everything Puck was saying, as they walked to the cashier. The lady behind the register had lightly scratched her fingers on the back of her neck, and coughed slightly after seeing their purchases. Her momentarily frown flipped into a smile like a switch when she asked them if they found everything they were looking for._

" _So," Puck said wrapping Blaine's shoulder's up in his arm, as they walked out of the building, "Other than an epic water gun fight. What else do you want to do for your 21st birthday?"_

" _I want to buy some beer, duh," Blaine had said._


	3. Chapter 3

Sam walked back from the kitchen with two plain white mugs in his hands. The steam floating from the cups into nothingness. Blaine couldn't stop watching it. He hadn't realized that he was staring at a warm mug in his hand until Sam asked if he was okay. Nodding his head, Blaine kept staring at the steam. The hot steam that was hitting his nose.

"You're staying here tonight, okay?" Sam said.

"Why," Blaine asked eyebrow crunched, and his eyes still staring into the minty tea. Most of the steam was thinning.

"Because I don't want you outside at two in the morning stumbling around high off your ass, so that you can get jumped, raped or stolen from, and not even remember it in the morning."

"Whatever," Blaine grumbled into his mug.

"No, okay, fuck you, Blaine. Fuck you for not caring that I give a shit about you. Fuck you for not noticing that I care about you. And especially fuck you for making me fall in love with you!" Sam yelled. His chest heaved up and down a few times. Blaine had finally looked up from the tea in the cup, and he blankly blinked at Sam. Sam who had a few tears dribbling down his cheeks. Sam who looked completely wrecked. Sam who had just professed is love for Blaine. His love for Blaine. He loved Blaine.

"Y-you love me," Blaine said staring at the nails digging into Sam's palm in a closed fist.

"Of course I do. People say that I'm blind and stupid, but those people definitely have not seen you Blaine. Let me tell you," Sam grumbled looking down at his feet.

"But I'm a mess. I'm a junkie. I'm a fucking whore, Sam. Look at me I'm unlovable."

"But you're my mess. You're my junkie. And I don't know what whore means, so I'm not going to say that your my whore," Sam said kneeling in front of Blaine his fingers spreading across Blaine's thin thighs.

"Good. I don't really think you want to know what whore means."

"I'll just google it later," Sam murmured.

"Good luck trying to spell it."

"Getting back on topic. Blaine Anderson, how would you like to be my boyfriend?" Sam had asked eyes shimmering in the strong white light above them.

"I didn't know you were, like, even five percent gay."

"Well, I am for you… I guess, and may be other dudes too. I really don't and care."

"This is going to be hard, Sam. I just want you to know. I'm not an easy person to deal with, as you know. I don't want you to—to end up hating, me, I guess."

"I could never hate you, dude," Sam smile tenderly.

Blaine closed his eyes, and sucked in a very shaky breath. His chest had stuttered. He continued, "You say that now, but—"

Sam cut him off, "Just say yes, please."

"Y-yes, yes, I'll be your boyfriend."

Sliding his hand to cradle the left side of Blaine's face, Sam leaned in towards Blaine. Their breath tickles each other with fingers of warm air. Sam's eyes trained on Blaine's lips that were opened by a sliver. The sharp curve of the top lip, and the dull smoothness of the bottom. They moved, but no sound came from them. Or maybe Blaine said something, and Sam didn't hear at all.

"Huh?" Sam asked leaning back.

"Remember when I had a crush on you for a bit in senior year."

"Yeah?"

"Well, I wish I could go back, and tell seventeen year old me to fucking cool it because he was going to get what he wanted. For once."

"See! I knew you never stopped wanting to bang me! I knew it!"

Blaine had slammed his mouth onto Sam's in a very messy kiss. Teeth clattered against each other. Tongues were slipping against each other. They didn't care. Of course they didn't care. All they care about was that they were together. Together, as one. Blaine gentling slipped his hand into Sam's like a ghost. They both stood up digging their heels into the slick wooden floor. Blaine legs eventually hugged Sam's waist tighter than a vice after Sam hoisted him on the hallway wall. Pictures had jiggled. There was a dull thump every time Sam would roll his hips into Blaine's. Blaine had tried to slow Sam down mumbling something about it being Sam's first time with a guy, so they should cool down. Sam only smirk lifting on side of his lips and shrugging. He was a male stripper at some point. When Sam threw Blaine on top of the thick blue blanket, all of Blaine worries and hesitation vanished somewhere. Just like the steam of the tea vanished.

 _Blaine peered down at Sam's phone looking at his open Facebook. After being picked up from Scandals, Blaine went home, and he wrapped his arm with a rubber band the same colour as the sky. It was with a practiced movement, and it happened so often that it was almost automatic for Blaine to go home and start drifting towards the drawer with the band in it. Now, Blaine was high while discovering that Kurt has a new boyfriend. A new boyfriend with stupid good fluffy looking hair. Blaine turned away from the phone sleeping atop his poor excuse of a coffee table—a large upside down cardboard box. He walked to the nearest wall, and started slowly thumping his head against it._

" _Blaine, dude, what are you doing?" Sam had peek his head from where it was buried in the fridge._

" _Trying to forget," Blaine mumbled continuing the abuse on his head._

" _Trying to forget what?"_

 _Blaine groaned, and he pointed his finger towards the phone laying on the cardboard box. Grabbing the quarter full orange juice jug out of the fridge, Sam gripped its neck, and he walked over to the phone. With slight smile instantly dipped into a deep frown. He blinked an umpteenth times._

" _Are you upset that Kurt had a boyfriend? Because I thought you were over him," Sam looked over at Blaine's tense back with dead in his eyes that Blaine couldn't see even if he was looking directly at Sam. He was higher than a rocket in space._

 _Blaine huffed a fake laugh, and he said, "I will never be over him. I will and cannot love another man. My poor heart sings."_

 _He clutches his heart to be dramatic, and Sam feels his heart tighten in his chest._

" _But you're gonna start dating again right?" Sam had asked with a little panic in voice. Blaine missed it. Just like he missed the way Sam's face completely fell when he said no. No, he was never going to try dating again. Blaine turned away from the wall, and he started smacking his lips together._

" _I'm thirsty," He declared his face kissed by the colour of a rose._

 _Sam handed him the orange juice, and started watching Blaine's head nod. It bobbed up and down like a boat on the ocean. A vast sigh blew out of Sam's mouth. He knew Blaine wouldn't notice anything now. It was almost as if he were unconscious. His eyes were open. His body swayed slightly, but he wouldn't react to anything. An elephant could come stomping into his house, and a muscle wouldn't even twitch. Blaine hadn't noticed the tears slipping from Sam's eyes even though it was right in front of his face._

When Blaine woke up, he had this dull ache all around his ass. He flopped over on the bed to see Sam sprawled out beside him like a fish that flopped on land. Sam was dressed in the nude. Blain looked down to see himself in the same outfit. Oh, yeah. Blaine shoved his head into the big pillow. They fucked. They were boyfriends. Blaine was the boyfriend of Sam Evan. That was one thing Blaine never thought he was going to be again. Someone's boyfriend. The window beside Sam showed that grey was peeking behind the long curtain. It was still dark. Blaine closed his eyes, and went to bed content for the second time in a very long time.

The second time he woke up it was to these feathery touches that tickled Blaine's neck. He turned his head, and all he saw was a patch of blonde hair. Sam was kissing up and down his entire face.

"Good morning," Sam breathed his hot breath polling over Blaine's cheek.

Blaine said, "Morning."

"I have to go to work."

"No," Blaine drew out wrapping his arms around Sam's hips holding him in place.

A deep chortle echoed in the tight bedroom. After pressing a long kiss to Blaine's waiting lips, Sam untangled himself. Blaine silently cursed himself cringing thinking about how much time he wasted being alone when he could have been with Sam. Well, he actually was with Sam most of the time. It was more of how much time he wasting thinking he was alone, high, when he really wasn't. Sam was always there. Sam will always be there. A knob shrieking came from the bathroom, and the water started up. Blaine decided to blindly stumble his stiff body into the bathroom. Sam was more than happy for him to join him in the shower.

 _Don and Micky had both tripped Blaine up in the hallway, so that he landed hard on his knees. They were going to bruise. After a few snickers were exchanged, a blue sticky shower landed over top Blaine's hair dribbling onto his eyes a little._

" _It's the little sad fairy who's never going to have a dinky little boyfriend. How sad is that," Don had sneered._

" _No one's going to love you… ever. You unlovable," Micky laughed._

 _Blaine shook of the few speck of slush that landed on his hands, and wiped them across his eyes. Avoiding getting any liquid in them. It would burn otherwise._

Blaine wished he could go back, and tell them just how wrong they were.

Kurt Hummel: Hey, do you think you could give me Blaine's number?

Sam Evans: Why?

Kurt Hummel: I just want to meet up with him before I go back to Lima

Sam Evans: Why?

Kurt Hummel: Because I miss him? Why are you being do defensive?

Sam Evans: You're not going to try to get back together with him… are you?

Kurt Hummel: God no. I have a boyfriend. I just want my best friend back.

Sam Evans: You're going to have call him, and don't be discourage if he doesn't pick up right away. He's usually not home.

Kurt Hummel: Does he not have a cell phone?

Sam Evans: Nope.

Drumming his fingers along his sides, Kurt hummed an idle tune waiting in line to order his mocha. He realizes that he is twenty minutes earlier than the decided time that Blaine and he were going to meet up. Yes, he realizes that. His anxiety on the other hand doesn't. Ever since the moment he woke up, Kurt couldn't seem to slow down his stuttering heart. He doesn't really know what he wasn't to talk about; he just knows he wants to talk. This time without walking away. A women behind the cahier calls next, and Kurt jumps a little noticing that there was no one in front of him. When did that happen?

Kurt cots the warm foam cup that he was just handed, and sets off to find a secluded corner. Somewhere not in the spotlight where everyone can see them. There's this corner slightly tucked behind the condiments area. Kurt quickly scrambles there before anyone else can slip into the seats. Once he sits down, he takes a deep breath. Placing his cup down atop the cleared off table, Kurt looks down at his phone. Congratulations, he wasted five whole minutes. He clicks on the face book app. Scrolling through all these posts, Kurt only seems to be able to watch the clock above the app. He watches the number slowly click closer and closer to noon. When the clock reads: 12:00, and the doors hollers out a ding. Kurt looks up to see Blaine entering the room. His physical condition was the same as a few days ago at the reunion, but his face was different. It was happier. He was draped in an oversized letterman jacket. One that a jock had worn in McKinley.

"Hey," Blaine said sitting down smiling a smile that had once been worn by the Blaine five years ago. Kurt missed it so much.

"Hello," Kurt greeted back, "I just want to start this conversation with an apology that I should have said years ago. I shouldn't have left like that Blaine. I'm sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I just want you to know that I am sorry for leaving you all those years ago."

"Kurt, I'm sorry too. I'm sorry that I didn't say anything when I should have. You don't know how much regret I have of that day. There are not enough words to express it."

"I forgive you," Kurt breathed.

Blaine replied, "Well, then, I forgive you too."

"Where did you get that jacket? Did you join a sports team in senior year?"

"Nope," Blaine replied. If it were possible, Blaine's smile grew even larger than the one before, as he stood back up turning around to show Kurt the back of the jacket. Written in the bottom of the back was 'Evans'. Blaine sat back down laughing at Kurt's raise eyebrows.

"Why did Sam give you that?" Kurt had asked.

"Well," Blaine started shifting until he crossed one leg over the other, "I have a little secret to tell you."

"What is it?"

"Sam and I are officially dating."

"Oh!" Kurt gasped, "That's why he was being so protective yesterday!"

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm happy for you."

"Well, I'm happy for you too. How's Elliot? What's he like?"

The two had started in a conversation as if they've been best friends forever. Firing small talk back and forth. Asking and answering easy questions one after the other. It was as if they didn't stop talking for over five years. It's as if Blaine hadn't changed at all. The conversation had really picked up, though, when the topic of what was the best musical was brought up. Blaine will always say that it is Rent, and Kurt will always deny that he had agreed that one time. Laughs came easier than both Blaine and Kurt expected.

"Thank you," Blaine had said eventually.

"For what?"

"For not bringing up what you saw in the bathroom."

"That's not why I wanted to talk to you today, Blaine."

"I know. And thank you, really. It's actually been kind of nice forgetting about it for a while. In case you were wondering… I am trying to stop using it now. Especially for Sam. I've actually been thinking about going into rehab."

"You do whatever you think is best, okay?"

A dry laugh escaped Blaine's throat, and he said looking away from Kurt, "I can't believe that you were the first person I told that I want to go to rehab, and I haven't talked to you in five years."

"It's crazy how easy people can click back into place again. I'm leaving for New York tomorrow early. We're gonna stay in touch, right? I don't want to lose you again."

"I would-I would really like that, Kurt. Thank you."

"Hey, stop thanking me. It's what friends do for each other."

"Friends?"

"Friends."

They bid their farewells. A hug was exchanged before they both left. A hug were eyes were sewn shut so tightly, and they felt each other's hair tickle their faces. Kurt drove his way back to his Father's house at 4:21 while Blaine sat on the edge of the lifting concrete waiting for Sam's beat-up faded red car. They had felt content like a million pound weight was lifted of their shoulder, so that they could take in deep inhalations. When Sam's car had jerked to a stop in front of Blaine, and Blaine hopped in closing the door with a light thump, Blaine felt like his life now was maybe worth something. That maybe he was too focused on the past memories when he should have been more focused on making new ones with people who loved him. Not dwelling on the people who didn't.

Blaine looked over at Sam, and said, "I want to go to rehab… or at least get a counsellor or something."

"Whatever you want, babe, whatever you want."

They drove away, and Sam looked over at Blaine one more time.

"You look really hot in that jacket by the way."

Blaine didn't mean to. To which people probably think how do you not mean to inject a needle full of heroin into your arm? He had been good. He had been great actually. Nearly two months completely sober. Two months without needing rehab or a counsellor. Noah had this whole two month sober party planned against the wishes of Quinn, but they won't be needing it anyways. Blaine guesses Quinn did get her wishes. It had just been a bad night. An awful night really. Blaine had stopped selling his body now considering he didn't need it for drugs. He worked at the Lima Bean during the day, and by night he was grinding down on a pole nearly in the nude.

Blaine didn't mean to overdose. He didn't. It was just a really awful night.

One of his regular clients of his old prostitution work came into Scandals that night already tripping drunkenly over everything before he even reached the bar. He wasn't there to get drunk, though, he was there to get laid. Of course, Blaine didn't know this. Blaine was up on the stage sweat slowly dripping into every crack of his body, as he thrusted his hips to the beat of the song playing. It had reached closing time, so Blaine left using the back exit which lead to a dusty rock infested alleyway. The man from earlier started following him. His name was Denver Donelson. He was nearly stepping on the back of Blaine's feet the entire time, as Blaine tried to walk back to his apartment.

Denver wasn't like most of the men that paid Blaine to sleep with them. Sure, he had a wife and kids, but he wasn't old like the rest. He was quite young only in his late twenties. He was tall; standing at a towering six three. The entirety of his body was caked in thick muscles. Realistically he could get any man in Scandals he wanted. The reason he paid Blaine to sleep with him was because he knew for a fact Blaine kept quiet. That Blaine wouldn't go running his mouth off to the Mormon Church he grew up in. The man's brunette hair was pretty basic, and he had no facial hair that really made him stood out. There was one thing about him that gave Blaine the ability to pick him out of any crowd anywhere. A thin long white line that started just above his eyebrow, and ran down the side of his face until it stopped by the corner of his mouth. When he smiled, the whole scar twitched. Blaine can recognize it anywhere.

" _Hey, Denny bear, you didn't pay me enough. You know a whole night is two hundred and fifty bucks," Blaine had said picking at the wad of cash that was just handed to him. It was only one hundred and seventy-two bucks._

" _I can pay you the rest next time we do this again, okay? Now get on your hands and knees."_

 _Blaine turned around to face the wilted flat Motel bed they were using that night. It seemed that there were stains on the pillows. Some of them yellow just like corn. Some of them were white—Blaine could probably guess what those ones were. He fell deep into the velvet coloured sheets everything avoiding the pillows. A pointed look was sent to Denver's way. Laughing and falling into sync with Blaine, Denver wrapped his thick hands around Blaine's hip bones. His hands were like breakfast sausages._

" _Come on, baby. Tell me you don't want it. For real," He growled tongue kissing Blaine's ear._

" _Of course it want it," Blaine said, "but for the right price, Denver. You know this._

" _I'm surprised your fully aware of what I'm saying… you're usually your so doped up on drugs that you don't notice me short changing you."_

" _You what?"_

 _The room went silent and still. It was a picture._

" _You've short changed me before? How big of a douchebag are you? You can get out Denver honestly," Blaine said shooing Denver's hands off his hips. Denver had only dug them in harder, deeper._

" _Baby, I bought this motel room just for us. I'm not going to waste it."_

 _Blaine was thrown onto the bed head diving into the pillows. Something wet had brushed his forehead, and he puckered up his face like a child's eating a lemon. A heavy weight settled itself in the middle of his back. Blaine didn't need to look to know it was Denver._

" _Denver, come on, no means no. I want to stop," Blaine sighed._

 _The weight had pushed harder making Blaine's lungs feel tight. Way too tight for him to be comfortable. Hands wandered and danced their way to the front of Blaine's jean. They fiddled around with the zipper._

 _Pushing the hands away, Blaine said, "God, are you retarded? I said no. I want to stop."_

" _I have a cousin who is mentally retarded, and I find that very offensive. I think you need to be punished," Denver had whisper his hot breath tickling its way down Blaine's neck. Rum was the only thing Blaine could smell when Denver opened his mouth, and he knew it came from the empty bottle in the corner._

 _Blaine had huffed losing patients wanting this whole night to be over with, so he could go home to dig through his stash. Sam would be there giving him sad eyes. He would ignore them like he always does. Blaine flopped over back draped across the bed head still leaning against the filthy pillows. Surprised gasps slipped out of Blaine's mouth, as the thick hands pinned his hands above his head. Blaine had thought Denver would lighten up. He didn't. He just dug his nails into Blaine's wrists nearly breaking the layer of skin on them. After Denver had tried with all of his might to keep Blaine's wrist together with one hand while fiddling with Blaine's zipper with the other, Blaine kneed him in the stomach. His face went red, as smacked the shocked face with the back of his hand, hard. Red spilt across Blaine's cheek. Blaine tackled him to the ground. They both had rolled around for a bit growling like crazed beasts. Paintings shook violently on the wall. Lamps fell over, and beds shouted when they were scraped across the floor. Once Blaine and Denver had bruises littered all of their bodies, and bits of blood dripping down their face to the tips of their chins, Denver wrapped his hands hard around Blaine's throat. Closing in tighter and tighter until Blaine reached for a piece of shattered lamp. Blaine tug the sharp piece through the side of the greasy blood ridden face._

Blaine could recognize that scar anywhere because Blaine was the one who gave it to him.

Still walking back to his apartment with a drunken stumbling man walking behind so close that he could feel the eyelashes on his neck, Blaine felt hands dig into his hips. It brought him back to that night. A night that was easier to forget while he was high on heroin. And, oh, how Blaine loved forgetting the night his hand was completely red with someone else's blood. The hands on his hips forced him to face the man. To face Denver and his scar. His scar full of memories Blaine wants to forget.

"Hello, baby," Denver said a smile tickling his lips.

"Go away," Blaine said, "I need to go home."

"Going to shoot?"

"I don't do that anymore."

"Oh, sure. And I still don't have a wife anymore."

"Fuck off," Blaine growled idly scratching his nails across the scars sprinkled all of over his arms. He left little red lines all over his forearms. Denver reached out to kiss Blaine. Blaine had only huffed shoving him away. All of a sudden Blaine was shoved onto a brick wall back being scrapped, and a tongue licking at his lips.

"Denver, stop it, please," Blaine had whimpered thinking of Sam.

"Oh, you beg like a pretty bitch," Denver whispered with a breath lingering of scotch, "and I love it."

"I really thought you were past raping, retard."

Eventually Denver walks away stumbling his way back to Scandals. Blaine decides to pray for whoever Denver ends up with that night. After he was gone, all that Blaine was left with was the taste of light rum in his mouth, and a hammering heart. See, it wasn't really Blaine's fault that he had sprinted home diving nose first into the drawer with a secret stash. He just had a bad night. If anyone was to blame, it was Denver. That's why Blaine was confused at all the angry faces pointed at him, as he blinked himself awake for the second time. The first time had been a lot better. Everyone was just happy that he was alive, so being mad was the farthest feeling that they all decided to be. Blaine just wanted to go back to sleep. Maybe take some heroin, so he can stop the shakes that are starting to move his whole body.

" _Everyone shut up, I think he's waking up," A high pitched voice rung, but it was a little too low to be a girls._

" _Kurt?" Blaine had grumbled eyes still closed._

" _Oh, thank god," Someone had whispered to the left of Blaine, or what Blaine thought was the left. He didn't really know. All he knew was the achy pain that throbbed throughout the entirety of his body was all too familiar. Was he in bed?_

" _Come on, baby, open your eyes for me, please," the voice from a few seconds earlier had said. It sounded familiar. Was he at Sam's house?_

" _Sam, where am I?" He croaked out. His throat felt dry, and scratched up by a million tigers. It hurt to talk. It hurt to move. Blaine decided he didn't want to do either which included moving his eyes that felt like a million pound weight on the think skin. Sounds of quieted breaths surrounded Blaine. He just wanted to know where he was._

" _Open your eyes, okay? You'll figure it out."_

 _A very, very panicked voice said, "Blaine, for god sakes open your eyes, so we know you're okay."_

 _Blaine had opened his eyes for the sake of whoever just said that. They sounded on a near panic attack. They sound like they were on the break of being psychotic. White was all he saw for an umpteenth seconds. White brighter than pure snow which had slowly faded into a concerned face huddled at the foot of his bed. A face that was forever burned deep into his mind, but one he hasn't seen for years. One he hasn't seen since his senior year._

" _Cooper?" Blaine rasped out forgetting about his sore throat. Right, no talking._

 _Arms coddled his neck and shoulders. A breathy voice said, "Oh, thank god you're okay. I'm sorry I haven't been there, Blaine. I'm so sorry."_

 _A groan deep from Blaine's chest sounded the silence of the room._

" _Are you okay? Did I hurt you? What hurts, squirt?" Cooper fired off franticly._

" _Everything," Blaine mumbled letting black seep into his eyelids once again._

"Why the fuck would you do that Blaine? What am I supposed to do with the damn cake in the fridge? And now Quinn's going to start another argument about how I spend too much time with you," Puck had grumbled in the corner he was standing in arms slipped into each other. A 'get well soon' balloon covered his face from Blaine's view on the narrow hospital bed. It was a dinky thing that someone must have grabbed in the gift shop in the lobby as an afterthought. There really was no soon to the get well of a drug addict. Sweat started to pool everywhere on Blaine's body where he was huddled like a fetus swimming deep in Sam's old red McKinley hoodie.

"Fuck off, Noh, can the argument come after I get out of this shit hole? Everything hurts so badly," Blaine mumbled into the tiny pillow his head slept on. The five people on the room soften their hard eyes at the tone of Blaine's voice.

"He's got a point there though, Blaine. Why the fuck would you do that? I just got you back into my life and you think that it's okay to just waltz your way back out? Also, I'm missing an important assignment back in New York," Kurt grumble from he sat in the far corner. His legs crossed and arms settled deep into his lap. His eyes were stone cold staring at the hospital bed.

"Come on, guys, this is first time overdosing. Give him a break," Sam protested standing right beside Blaine's head.

"And his only. I'll make sure of it," Kurt snapped.

"Can you guys stop talking about me like I'm not in the fucking room?" Blaine said.

"How about you stop using fucking heroin first?" Kurt said back.

Sinking his head into the pillow with more lumps than a potato sack, Blaine closed his eyes. He murmured voice so quiet, "I'm sorry. I just had a bad night. It wasn't really my fault. I swear."


	4. Chapter 4

Silence was a constant sound in Blaine's hospital room. He's been in here for a few days, and he doesn't understand why he can't just leave. The doctor had probably explained it once or twice, but everything the he was saying had become white noise. Just like Sam talking about his High School football team, Cooper chatting about a new commercial, Kurt blabbering about new designs and Noah complaining about Quinn. Everything was pretty much ignored by the painful throbbing ache that has settled itself everywhere in Blaine's body. And the puking. The puking hadn't helped his apathy of noticing everyone else in the room decrease. The big smoke coloured bucket in the corner has been emptied at least four times today… it was only eleven in the morning.

Looking around the room, Blaine realizes that he thought he would never get sick of neutral colors. The whites, the greys, the blacks and the beiges are all churning Blaine's stomach even more than it already was. It was as if the colours were making his head spin like he had just done trillion twirls. Blaine leans over to the side of the bed, and grey plastic can was shoved in front of his face. Coughs, throat ripping coughs, echoed off the adjacent walls. A little bit of bile splashed into the bucket, but that was it. Now, they were going to empty it for a fifth time. Great. Just fucking great.

 _White was all he could see. It was white then black white then black then noise started to fill his ears. It was frantic murmuring and some hushed shouting. He didn't know what that ringing noise was, but someone should really shut it off, honestly. It was hurting Blaine's ears. It felt like they were going to bleed._

" _Blaine can you hear me?" A muffled voice had asked. Blaine tried to nod, but then this obnoxious beeping sound got him distracted. What was that? Can't it be quieter?_

" _Can you open your eyes please?"_

 _Blaine slowly peeled his eyes open only to see complete white. He snapped them shut once more._

" _Blaine please."_

 _He snapped them open when he recognized the voice. His eyelids held open long enough, so that four heads came into focus._

" _Mom? Aren't you supposed to be in Italy with dad?"_

" _We both came back, baby. We will always come back when you're in trouble or need help… or-or anything, Blaine. I promise I'll be there."_

 _Blaine closed his, but this time he didn't see black. He saw blurred images of rain, red. It was almost as if he were in a nightmare. Well, not a nightmare, but it was a memory. A memory with blurred face of smirking monsters. Who thought it was a good idea to go to the goddamn school dance? Blaine whimpered like an injured puppy. A hand came to cradle the side of his face, and a tear slipped out of Blaine's eyes._

" _How long have I been here?" Blaine murmured._

" _You've been in a comma for three days," A sweet voice answered._

 _Blaine's father snapped, "I told you not to be a fucking fag, boy."_

" _Do you not have any sympathy, John?"_

" _Not for a fairy, Pam, he was asking for it."_

" _He's your goddamn son."_

 _Blaine shut his eyes hoping that it would be black there. He hated when his parents argued about him like he wasn't in the room right between them. He hated it when anyone did it. The feeling of being invisible was unbearable. It was as if people couldn't give him the time of day._

 _After three hours had pass, Blaine opened his eyes to see just his mother sitting in a white chair eyes cornered in red. His father was nowhere in sight. A perfectly manicured hand grasped his. The nails were coated in a perfect beige the same color as the walls. Blaine's mother had leaned forward whispering in his ear that things were going to be better. That they'll get him into a new school. That they'll leave his father behind if he can't accept him._

Three weeks later Blaine's mom had died. No wonder Blaine hates hospitals.

People filtered in and out of Blaine's room. Even people Blaine never thought he'd see again popped their head in for a 'hello'. It wasn't reciprocated. Blaine was too busy shivering in the sweat soaked hoodie throwing up every last thing in his stomach a numerous times. Burt Hummel had strolled into the room a worried smile curled up in his lips choking the card in his hand just as Blaine's eyes rolled into the back of his head. All Blaine could see was black. Everyone else could only focus on the way Blaine's eyes had gone completely white. His Body then had started to thrash around in the narrow hospital bed, and Sam had screamed the nurse's name in bloody murder. The cheery card in Burt's hand fluttered its way to the ground. Scrambling out of the doorway, Burt huddled himself in the corner. His face was melted into pure terror as if he saw someone being murdered in front of him.

So Blaine was sorry if people didn't get the welcoming they wanted when they strolled into his room without a warning, but Blaine wasn't really in the mood. Ever.

Today was his third day in the hospital, and it was two in the afternoon. Burt, Kurt and Sam were all looking at him with the faces. It was as if they were waiting for something awful to happen. Blaine hated it, so he just looked the other way. Though he understood why, after the whole seizure incident, Blaine was happy to let them look at his soaking back with that face. Eventually Kurt and Burt had filtered out around five in the evening, and Kurt said something about tomorrow being his last day in Lima. Blaine hadn't been listening. He was too busy ripping the sweater off his torso, and sitting shivering in the bed. Knees slid up to be under Blaine's chin, as his bare back trembled.

"If you're so cold, why did you take the sweater off?" Sam asked from the white chair to the right of Blaine. Red fabric was pooled in his lap.

Blaine yawned, "It was too confining. I don't like feeling trapped."

"Also, if you're so tired, why don't you sleep?" Sam had asked.

"I can't."

"Well sure you can, babe. Just close your eyes, and lay back."

Blaine snapped, "I fucking can't, asshole, so just fuck off."

Sam tipped his head back looking at the white ceiling. The nauseating white ceiling. He swallowed making his Adam's apple bob. After he cleared his throat, Sam stood up.

"I think you need to cool down, and realize that we're here to help. Or at least trying to, but there's only so much we can do when you refuse it," Sam had said before leaving the room. It was his third day in the hospital at five thirty-six in the evening, and Blaine was alone. At least he did better than last time.

 _When Blaine opened his eyes, all he could see was a white ceiling. It made him dizzy. He sat up looking around the room. There was a women dressed in blue scrubs bending over a table in the corner. Pills clattered as she rolled a metal trey towards Blaine. Oh right, he was in the hospital. Blaine went to go scratch this deep throbbing pain settling around his eye. When he felt fabric underneath his fingertips, he froze. The nurse hustled a little faster over to where Blaine was. Clangs of pills and metal was the only sound in the room._

" _Don't touch your eye sweetie. Remember. You have a scratched cornea," She said holding out two red pills for Blaine to take._

" _Where is everyone?" He asked._

" _All you friends left. I don't know where. We to tried to call your dad but-"_

" _He didn't answer," Blaine finished._

" _Yeah…" the nurse answered unsure._

 _It was his second day in the hospital at six in the morning, and he was already completely alone._

There were red slits left behind on Blaine's forearms from where he had been gripping them so hard. He hated being here. Blaine wants to leave so bad. There's way too many hurtful memories that he wants to forget. Blaine knows where wanting to forget leads. It leads him straight to his stash. Sam had been gone for the past half an hour, and now nurses filled the room. Soup, jelly and crackers in their arms. Blaine held down a gag looking at the food that had probably been sitting out who knows where for three days.

"Here's your supper for the night," One of the too sweet nurses had said. Her plump red lips moving smoothly. "Try to actually eat something. You might be surprised by how well you feel after."

Blaine would have laughed if it wasn't for the big yawn that overtook his entire body.

"Awe, have you not been sleeping?" The other nurse in the room asked. Why do they all talk like southern bells? "Do you want me to get some sleeping pills from the doctor, sweetie."

"Yeah, sure. It's not like I haven't slept in fucking days, and now you're giving me pills," Blaine grumbled. If he couldn't get the heroin to help him forget, he might as well get the sleep for temporary relief. The nurse with the thick blood stained lips rushes out of the room as if she were electrocuted. The other bent down to pick up the pool of red fabric on the ground. She handed the sweater to Blaine with a forced smile. Snatching it, Blaine glared his eyes bagged and empty. The nurse promptly walked out of the room looking down at the white shoes engulfing her feet. Blaine decided he hated those shoes because they were white. He hated that color. Soon enough the red lipped nurse strolled into the room holding a yellow bottle of pills. She shook out two pills into the Blaine's hands, as her lips curled into a smile. Blaine will never understand why nurses smile so much when they work in one of the most depressing places Blaine has ever been. Including his own apartment.

After he swallows the pills with no water, the nurse fills his hand with a little cup. It was full of water. She insisted that he needed it. The pills had kicked in right away, and Blaine fell backwards letting the lumpy pillow hug his head. Snot was dripping out his nose, and running on the crack above his lip. Blaine, for the first time in three days, was way too tired to care.

From Kurt Hummel: Hey, my dad misses you… he wanted to know if you wanted to come over for supper tonight. If you manage to pull yourself out of the hospital for a bit. It might be nice to have a home cooked meal.

To Kurt Hummel: Yeah sure. I'd love to.

From Kurt Hummel: Really?! I was so ready to get shot to hell.

To Kurt Hummel: I miss your family. Plus, Blaine's being an ass right now.

From Kurt Hummel: that sucks… Finn's going to be here too. Maybe we can watch a movie or play a game. It might relieve some of the tension.

To Kurt Hummel: Sounds good! What time should I come over?

Sam had needed out of the little white walls of the hospital. It was too confining; he felt trapped. A wave of dread had crashed over him knowing that Blaine was stuck within those walls for a while. He did put himself in there, Sam had to remind himself. It doesn't mean that he likes doing it. Reminding himself what Blaine had done to get in the hospital. Sam doesn't understand what happened, or know what had set Blaine off. His mouth is shut tighter than volt's door. It's been stressing Sam out to no end. He was walking down an endless path of stress and complete loss. Sam was sure he pulled out more hair the past few days than he had lost throughout his entire life. How was he supposed to help Blaine when he hadn't a clue what was wrong? Everything had been going so well.

 _Blaine hasn't said 'I love you' to Sam yet which is totally fine with Sam. He realizes that he may have rushed into things way to early, but he couldn't wait anymore. Watching Blaine destroy himself was destroying his heart into a billion tiny broken pieces. He couldn't stand it. Wasn't it written somewhere that you should seize the moment anyway?_

 _When Sam walked through the doors of Blaine's apartment, he smiled wider than all the oceans depths combined. Blaine had made an effort to look good tonight for their second date. That was something Sam had been oh so thankful for lately. Blaine was putting an effort into things. He wasn't just rotting away like a fruit left unnoticed on a shelf. Sam walked over placing a hand just above the waistline of Blaine's white skinny jeans. He still dressed like the new Blaine… just nicer. There was this lingering feeling that Blaine was never going to be remotely like himself six or seven years ago. That was okay though. Sam hadn't fallen in love with that Blaine. He had fallen in love with this Blaine. The wrecked, real, sassy, smart ass and gorgeous Blaine. The one that was all dolled up in white jeans, and a black shirt sprinkled with little pink flamingos. His shoes had been the same color as the vibrant flamingos, and a black ripped suit jacket made the whole look come together._

" _You looking stunning, Blaine," Sam had said._

" _And you look ravishing as always," Blaine replied. A real smile on his lips. Not his old forced smirk._

" _Ravishing?"_

" _It means the same thing as stunning my big dummy," Blaine had laughed. If it was even possible, the big dopey smile on Sam's lips expanded further. He loved Blaine's nicknames. They were always so personalized._

" _Ready to go?" Sam had asked holding out his arm for Blaine to take._

" _You know," Blaine said, "We could skip the going out, and just go straight for the bedroom part."_

" _I would if these dinner reservation weren't so hard to get, I would consider it," Sam replied._

" _It's at breadsticks."_

" _So?"_

" _Never in my life had I known Breadsticks to be so busy that they could fill up half of their tables."_

" _And…?"_

" _There's no way you need reservations!"_

" _I know," Sam had said pecking Blaine's lips lightly, "But I'm hungry, and I think I'm going to need some energy for later tonight."_

" _Oh yes you will. I'm wearing one of the cheap ass looking red man thongs from Scandals, and I think you're going to thoroughly enjoy it," Blaine had whispered into Sam's ear._

 _Sam groaned loud like he was in a porno, and said, "How about we skip the dinner part now…?"_

" _Nope," Blaine exclaimed skipping away to the door, "You said you were starving, my big dummy."_

" _Come on, doll face, I only said I was hungry," Sam replied. As much as he loved Blaine's nicknames for him, Sam sure loved calling Blaine is doll and doll face a whole hell of a lot more._

Going to the Hummel's had been a needed distraction. Plate's clattered, idle chatter was everywhere and giggling and chortling had no end. All those sounds had quieted the worried voice inside his head screaming for Blaine. Blaine. Blaine. Blaine. It's like his brain had only one priority, and it was most definitely not his physical or mental health. Everything had been so lovely, mind numbing, up until a simple question. Now, Sam was not the one to judge. He had a simple mind too, and sometimes he says things that seem like they should be said, but aren't. So he's not judging Finn for ruining the end of his night. He's really not because how many times has Sam fucked up for saying something he shouldn't have.

"How's Blaine doing? Why isn't he here tonight?"

But god Finn… Why did it have to be those questions? All the plates stopped clattering, the idle chatter faded into nothingness and the giggling had stopped. Silence echoed off the walls in the dining room, as homemade pies sat on plates half eaten. Carole looked at Burt then to Kurt. Finn looked confused with his eyebrows crunched into complete confusion. Covered in Carole's hand, Finn's hand twitched like a dying dog.

"He overdosed, honey, remember I told you that," Carole said.

"Yeah, but, like, isn't he out of the hospital yet?"

"He'll probably be in there for a few more days. His fever was still really high last time I was there," Burt replied.

Sam stood up abruptly his chair crashing to the floor behind him. He rushed out already walking to the door, "I have to go."

Following him like shadow was Burt who said, "No you don't, kiddo, come sit down and finish your pie. Blaine's fine."

"No he's not," Sam snapped, "He could be having a seizure or hallucinating or something."

"I'm sure the nurses have it figured. Just come sit, and have the rest of your pie, okay?"

"No."

"Sam."

"No, because I feel too guilty sitting there knowing that Blaine is alone in a hospital considering that Cooper left yesterday. And I hate him for doing this to himself and everyone he loves, and I hate myself for fucking hating him because I promised him I wouldn't! And I especially hate myself for sitting here, and having a great time without him!"

The silence came back, and Sam hated it even more than before. Kurt slowly sat up reaching out for Sam's shoulder. His hand was a guiding light. Sam hadn't realized he was holding his breath until Kurt's hand had landed itself on his shoulder. He nearly gasped trying to get air into his lungs.

"I-I'm sorry Sam. If I knew how that would affect you, I wouldn't have-I wouldn't have asked," Finn stuttered.

"No, it's fine. I kind of overreacted," Sam mumbled looking down at his shoes idly wiping at the damp eyes on his face.

"Come on," Kurt had said gathering Sam's shoulders in his arms, "Let's go see Blaine. I miss him too."

"I want to come!" Finn had piped up.

The three of them had all piled into Kurt's car waving goodbye to Burt and Carole. Sam, who was sitting in the back, watched the stars twinkling in the dark. Blaine's eyes had started to look like those stars. There was a fire in them. Now, after the overdose, they were back to being the night sky. They were empty now again, and that was something Sam was having trouble coping with. One of the stars that was particularly smiling down at Sam was an exact copycat of what Blaine's eyes used to be like for a little while.

 _Two tired bodies had fallen into each other atop a couch as if the other was a pillow. Sam has a new job as a gym teacher while Blaine is working his new job at the Lima Bean, and the dark circles underneath their eyes had been deeply shaded. It was sporting the same color as a thick smog. The television was lite up blasting a show. Sam hadn't one clue what show was on the screen. All his focus was on the way the white light from the television bounced onto Blaine's face. His features were completely illuminated. Eyes twinkled not only from reflected light, but with passion too. Sam just fell deeper into the swamp of love he had for Blaine._

" _Do you even know what's on the television right now?" Blaine had laughed looking over at Sam's content face._

" _Nope," Sam said, "But I have a better view this way anyways."_

 _Arms came and engulfed Sam, so that his face was pressed into a small and tight chest. Vibrations landed on the side of Sam's face, as Blaine replied, "You big dummy. You're such a sap. You know that?"_

" _That's because I love you, baby doll."_

When they stepped into the hospital room, Blaine's eyes were closed, and soft raspy snore poured from his mouth. There was some snot dribbled over his lips. The blanket was only covering his legs while his naked torso was cover by a red sweater. Sam felt a sigh of relief rush past his dampened lips. It was the first time since the first day that he has seen Blaine asleep. Sam walked into the bathroom, and he yanked some of the thin toilet paper of the roll. When he walked back in, Kurt and Finn had taken a seat beside Blaine's bed.

Walking up to the sleeping fetus, Sam said, "You guys don't have to stay here. Thank you for the ride though."

"No, I'm cool, I want to see Blaine. I haven't seen him since the reunion," Finn had said looking anywhere where Blaine's body wasn't.

"Okay, well, don't scream in terror when he wakes up, and you realize that this is the Blaine on that day but a million times worse," Kurt said not moving from his spot, "I'll stay too. I have to leave early in the morning tomorrow."

"You make it sound like he's a child's monster," Sam had said wiping the snot away from Blaine's lip to his nose.

"If I was a child, I would be terrified of him. Not that I don't love him—as a best friend—he is kind of scary in withdrawal though."

Sam place himself gently on the bed moving as if an infant were beside him. The bed had groaned as the added weight moved it slightly. He dragged his fingertips through the sodden damp curls of the head lying beside his thigh.

" _Blaine!" Sam had hollered into the near empty apartment, "I picked up some of that Chinese food you like."_

 _When the response was nothing, Sam started to move his way through the various rooms. He kept calling out Blaine's name over and over and over again. Nothing. It was nothing until he called out one last time, and he heard some choking come from the bathroom. Sam had dropped the bags of food dangling from his arms, and dashed into the room as if the carpet had zapped him. The stains that he would leave on the carpet from the spilt food was the last of his concerns. Sam had thrown his whole body into the door leading to the bathroom. Other than some jiggling from the loose locks, the door had not budged open. Panic had forced Sam's throat closed._

" _Blaine?" Sam called out voice tight._

" _Don't you fucking open that door, Sam, I swear to god!" Blaine had nearly screamed bloody murder. Moans had poured out from underneath the thick crack on the bottom of the door._

" _Blaine, please, open the door. Please. I'm really scared, man," Sam begged, as dropped down to his knees forehead thumping onto the door in front of him._

" _No. Fucking. Way." Blaine snapped._

" _Please," Sam begged like a wealthy man does for money, "Please."_

 _There was no sharp voice throwing venom to Sam's concern. It was just chokes, gags and coughs. Sam had decided it was enough. A thick shoulder had been shoved into the lamely painted mint green door. After four hard shoves, the door had bust open flying into the walls within the bathroom. Sam caught the door before it could smack the hunched figure sitting on the toilet curled around a garbage can. He slide the door out into the slim hallway._

" _What the actually fuck, Sam. There was a goddamn reason why I didn't want you in here," Blaine snapped._

 _When Sam had walked in he smelt it, and he forced his face to remain stoic. He didn't want to send Blaine into a spiral of embarrassment, as he crunched his face up into a cringe from the stale smell of vomit and shit mixed together._

" _Blaine, it's okay," Sam said softly kneeling in front of Blaine slipping the trash can of his hands. Blaine's hands had been gripping the can so hard that his knuckled were white while his fingertips were kissed with red. Blaine's hands stood still as if he were holding an imaginary can trembling. Sam took the can over to the bathtub dumping out all the contents, and then walking over to the switch panel. He flopped the fan on._

" _Fuck off, Sam," Blaine grumbled rubbing the tears slipping their way down his cheeks. His cheeks had turned red. "I'm not even fucking sad! Why am I crying?"_

" _Dude, I read this online… a side effect of heroin withdrawal is a ton is fluid coming out of your body. It's fine."_

Sam will never forget the first time he helped Blaine through withdrawals. Honestly, we will never forget every damn bucket he's every cleaned, every time he wiped Blaine's nose, every mood swing he's had to calm down and every hallucination. Especially the hallucinations. Those had always shook Sam to the core. It left him with this haunting feeling that he couldn't shake for days. That's why when Blaine had woken up with those innocent eyes flying around the room, Sam was scared.

"Sammy, Sammy, you got to listen to me," Blaine rushed out gripping to the collar of Sam's shirt like he wanted to choke it, "Make them stop. Tell them to shut up. I don't know how long I can take the sirens. Can't you hear it, Sammy, the fucking sirens?"

"You're okay, Blaine. I promise they won't get you. I'll protect you, doll face," Sam had whispered into his ear trying to coax him into a hug. Once Blaine was wrapped up in Sam's thick arms, Sam looked up to see the faces in the room. Kurt had jumped right out of his chair arms held out open as if he were waiting to catch something, and Finn just sat in his chair with the same face of horror that Burt had earlier. Eyes were blown wide while a jaw that had been dropped all the way to the floor. Sam closed his eyes buried his face into the quivering curls. He started rocking back and forth breathing promises. I promise no one will hurt you. I promise that you'll be okay. I promise that I will protect you, always and forever. After a while, Blaine's frantic breathing had calmed down. When Sam opened his eyes, Kurt and Finn were gone.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Blaine coughed, "You're back?"

"I'll always come back, Blaine."

Blaine sunk his face into Sam's chest breathing, "Oh, thank god. I know I don't say this as often as I should, but I need you, dummy. You make me happier than I have ever been. You always have."

 _Sam's legs were draped in an oversized thick pajama pants that had Captain American scattered all over them, and he was not wearing a shirt. Blaine on the other hand was wearing a large shirt with Captain America's shield plastered in the middle of it with some grey shorts that stopped mid-thigh. They sat atop Sam's bed in the Hummel/Hudson household huddled together underneath a white fleece blanket. It was their second bi-weekly 'Must Have Marvel Movie Marathon', or in shorter form MHMMM. Today, they were watching the first two Captain America's hence the clothing. Both pairs of eyes were following the actors on the small laptop screen very absorbedly. They had nearly lost themselves in the movie._

" _I got to say," Blaine murmured mouth around a hand full of popcorn, "Bucky is insanely hot."_

" _What about Steve Rogers?" Sam had asked peeling his eyes off the screen for the first time in an hour._

" _Before or after the serum?"_

" _After, duh," Sam replied rolling his eyes._

" _Well, you see that's a little weird because you look a lot like Steve Rogers," Blaine said also peeling his eyes off the screen to look at Sam._

" _Well, then, you should say yes because I totally know you want to bang me, dude," Sam said wrapping Blaine's head up into his left arm like a present, and ruffling the gelled curls so that they got messier._

 _Slipping his head out from Sam's hold, Blaine said, "Now I am never going to answer that question. I'm just going to keep you hanging on the edge of your seat for the rest of your life."_

" _Or I could just tickle it out of you, dude," Sam smiled, as he paused the movie wiggling is fingers like a warning. Blaine instantly scrambled out of the covers standing on the plush carpet that sank his sock covered toes. Flopping off the bed, Sam attacked Blaine. He tried to tickle him standing up, but it never worked as well as it does just laying down. When Sam had decided he had enough of the running around like toddlers, he hoisted Blaine onto the bed by the waist. Sam straddled him fingers dancing all over his armpits. Blaine eventually screamed to the gods up above that Steve Rogers was hot. Fingers let up, and the two continued the movie ignored the rose kissed cheeks on the other person._

It might not have been an 'I love you', but it sure as hell meant just as much. Kurt and Finn had strolled back into the room with cups of steaming coffee filling up their hands. Tentative smiles were plastered all over the room. Blaine gave them a small wave from where he was tucked underneath Sam's chin, and Sam's hands had accepted the hot coffee into them with a happy welcoming. Sam liked being depended on. He liked the feeling of someone needing him. And in this moment Sam had felt more content than any 'I love you' could have given him.


End file.
